


Hello, My Friend. It's Me Again.

by FranklyMrShankly



Category: Kind Of - Fandom, MCR - Fandom
Genre: F/M, I don't even know., Insanity, M/M, Multi, Other, crackfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-12
Updated: 2015-05-12
Packaged: 2018-03-30 05:04:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3923935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FranklyMrShankly/pseuds/FranklyMrShankly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which... well. You'll see. </p><p>-- This was inspired by a half intoxicated Twitter conversation with the lovely Miss Jatty.--</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hello, My Friend. It's Me Again.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jatty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jatty/gifts).



It’s been a long road, to get here. Really. Laying down on a semi-comfortable bed in the hushed, white space of my room at the Institution, I reflected on the day that lead me here.

 

+++

I was drunk, yes. Not any more so than usual, but I had definitely been pounding shots for a good two hours. It was going on two am, and I was getting tired. Good. Because that was the purpose of the alcohol. Mellow my shit out. I decided to lie down on the couch and flip through the channels until the infomercials sent me into a state of deep, boredom-brought sleep.

Four AM and I was awoken by a full bladder and the remote jabbing into my ass. Some combination of the two of those things and the surge of hormones that course through any young man as he sleeps resulted in a particularly obvious bit of early morning wood, tenting up in my sleeping shorts.

I poked it down and felt it pop right the fuck back up.

If I was older, I might cherish these moments as some of the last I had to experience the youthful bliss of arousal. However, at the ripe old age of twenty-four, I popped a boner at the sound of Siri saying “Good morning.”

Annoying. It’s really hard to pee with a hard-on. Painful, even.

I could rub one out, but the urge to pee was too great. No accidents. Not after last time. I was gonna have to go and go now; risk having a mess to Clorox wipe up in the morning.

I stood and walked to the bathroom, again pushing the head of my dick down a little, as though stretching it would make the peeing into the toilet easier. The minute I let go, it once again stood to full attention. What the hell had it so excited?! I was sleeping and watching Magic Bullet infomercials!

Oh. Bullet. Vibrators.

My dick and I have a dirty mind.

Another stretch as I pushed the front of my PJs down. “Ugh. You’re cheerful this morning. Hi.”

“Hi Frank.” I swear to god. My fucking penis said hello to me.

“Hello? Uh…. Penis?” How do you talk to your dick? Does it have a name? How drunk was I?

“You can call me little Frankie. I know you do when you refer to me when speaking to your friends. We haven’t had a boyfriend in a while.”

“Uh. Okay, Little Frank.” Where was the voice coming from? It doesn’t have a mouth.

“No. Little Frankie. Little Frank makes me sound like a cocktail weenie.”

“The fuck?”

“Exactly. The fuck Frank? Where, to be precise? Where are our fucks? It’s been a year, three months, and twelve days. I’m tired of your left and right hands. It’s gotten so bad a blender wakes me up, Frank. A blender.”

“I’m uh… sorry?”

“You should be. Listen. I’m going back to sleep. You really need to pee. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

Sure enough, my erection went down and I stumbled to the kitchen to pour the rest of my liquor down the drain before passing back out on the couch. I was done drinking. Forever.

The next day I was at the mall. I needed new, looser jeans. Maybe if I gave my cock room to breathe, it would stop invading my dreams.

Sitting at the food court, I was enjoying some greasy fried rice when I heard it again. Sober, awake, and in public.

“How about the guy three seats over?”

“Frankie!?”

“Yeah, dipshit. How about it? Are we feeling like vagina today? Because there’s also a girl buying coffee with a nice ass. You could score with her.”

I looked around and caught the eyes of an elderly man one table over. “Did you hear that sir?”

He looked at me like I was nutty.

“Yeah. You up there with the mouth and brain? How about you ask mister dark red skinny jeans to suck me off?”

“Ask him yourself!”

“I don’t have a mouth.”

“You’re my penis. How are you talking to me right now?”

“Frank. I’m serious,” my penis said. “Go over and ask him to get on his knees and lick me.”

“I will not. He’s just minding his business. He’s not going to just put you in his mouth. You’re my penis, not my matchmaker.”

“But the red skinny jeans.”

“Fuck the red skinny jeans!”

“Yeah!”

At this point, the gentleman in aforementioned jeans looked right at me before backing away and looking for a mallcop.

“See what you’ve done now, Frankie? Now I have to explain why I’m yelling at my cock in the food court!”

A young mother grabbed her daughter’s hand and led her away.

I didn’t even see the _actual_ police officer approach me.

+++                                                                                                                          

“You awake, Frank?”

“Yeah, little Frankie, I am.”

“Good. So there’s a new guy in room six. Multiple personalities. It would be the least messy orgy ever.”

“Okay. I’ll see about it over breakfast.”

“Thanks Frank, you’re a pal.”

“You, too, Frankie.” I petted the head of my dick affectionately. “Goodnight now.”

“Night Frank,” my penis said.

 


End file.
